Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Spurling was in a state of distraction and began to abuse Jonathan so violently that her future husband was obliged to lay forcible hands upon her and drag her away.
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